Branches Two Fates One Tale
by lovingtimetravelexpert
Summary: He had terrorized the lands. He had murdered and killed. He had walked the earth for centuries. Now he is back to fulfill his part of the legend. The legend of he who died once and lived twice. The legend of he who will not die again. The legend of he who will only be stopped by one person: The last remaining member of the Amawaka lineage. Shimayu AU
1. Legend of the Past and the Future

A/N: Hellooooo! This is a new fiction with a new universe. (No, I am not planning to abondon Crystals.) This is an entry for a contest on Wattpad and won't be as long as the other fics. Basically, only 20k will get evaltuated so it won't be much longer.

Have fun reading!^^

 **Branches – Two Fates. One Tale**

Chapter 1: Legend of the past and the future

Blood spluttered out of the wound. A fountain of scarlet liquid, sipping through two holes having been plunged deeply into the flesh, poured down the white bloodless skin. A death rattle, the rasping breath of a living thing dying, accompanied the sight, disturbing the silence.

Watching the display in front of him, he frowned.

He had seen it before. Had seen it often. There had been a time he lived for it. Loved to see the life slowly fade, fear and pain clouding their widened eyes, contorting their faces into masks of terror. They had no idea how good they had it.

He'd spent years amusing himself, feeling the rush of the hunt and the pleasure of soaking the life out of his victim. He'd slain and slaughtered before he'd spent decades on envying their short-lived lives. Envied their ability to sense – everything! – while he could not taste anything but blood, could not smell anything but fear and could not feel anything but lust and agony.

And then there had been one thing and one thing only on his mind: To free his soul from the slings attached.

He had searched for one person, the one man to end this endless repetition of sating his thirst and growing new hunger, and before he knew it, centuries had gone bye. He'd crossed realms searching for him, had seen creatures like himself and monstrosities that made even his hair stand on his neck. He'd traveled through dry deserts, over cold snow dunes and shipped over the big sea; only to find himself back where he had started. Where it all began and where he was born not once but twice. Where he was killed and revived by the hands of something more powerful than himself. It wasn't luck. He knew better. It was yet another carve in the coffin that was his twisted fate. He would not be surprised to find out that his one task was impossible.

The thud on the floor startled him out of his line of thought. The wide eyed corpse rested against the wooden wall of the house he had been lured out off moments ago.

He looked at his brother, who had walked the surface of earth for centuries at his side and now wiped off the blood from the corners of his mouth, tainting a snow white handkerchief with a deep red. The color of the liquid of life, which he and his brother needed to prolong their death.

Raising an eyebrow, he waited for a reaction of his brother, who had the same red flaming hair and similar sky blue eyes as he had. Though, Keiji was said to look more friendly; eyes less icy and quick to smile, in contrast to his own constant scowl.

Probing for information, he asked his brother, "Did he know something?"

"Seems like our henchmen were correct. There is someone living in this village who is believed to be the one we need," Keiji turned. The end of his dark coat swiped the air, swirling up the dark alley's dust. He sighed and complained, "I do prefer the sweetness of a young girl over the sour and dry taste of men."

"So it all ends where it began, huh?" He commented, rather sour. He was tired of this game, a game he had not known he agreed to play, back when his heart had ached in pain and love enough to blind his reason.

"Narukami," his brother murmured lowly. They both had unfaded memories of this place, where they had lived until they died.

"Did you miss it?" Keiji inquired.

"After what happened here? Hardly," he answered. The short span of his life hadn't been the one with the fondest memories, when every day, starving had been more likely than surviving.

Nevertheless, even after centuries, he remembered how he felt, when he heard _her_ kind laughter or saw _her_ sweet smile. He remembered how his heart had clenched, jumped in joy and twisted in awe. He could almost feel it while he remembered, almost felt the silent organ start pumping in his chest again. Yet, it was an illusion.

It was the price he had to pay his executioner all this time ago.

"What's your plan, Shimon?" His brother's voice came to him, disturbing the weird form of melancholia and indifference he had never grown used to.

If the one he needed to free his soul was here, in this tiny village far from the blooming civilization of the new cities, he was closer than he'd ever been. It had been over a century, since he began to hunt down the lineage of Amawaka.

Soon he would meet the last of them and he wanted to make sure that it happened.

"Let us celebrate our arrival," he said. "Take as many villagers as you can as prisoners. If he is not part of them, he will come out either way."

"As you command," Keiji bowed before he turned on the heels of his leather boots and walked away, becoming one with the shadows of the alley.

Shimon set his eyes, once again, onto the motionless body resting against the hut. Many had died for his course. Many had he killed for pleasure or nutrition, most times both. He wondered if it had been, what They had wanted.

As he turned away to go back to the carriage they'd left in front of the town, he ran his tongue over his pointed teeth.

There was one wish. One desire and one desire only: To free his soul. To accomplish that, he needed to fulfill his part of the legend. The legend that had bound him to an unlived life and undone death.

He was destined to pour the blood of the one who would bring him to fall.

* * *

The sword slashed straight down towards her. In the last moment she lifted her own weapon to stop the blow from cutting her in half. Supporting her one-edged blade with a hand pressed against the blunt side of her sword, she did her best not to stumble. Her feet slid back on the dry earth, crunching below her boots, as she tried to hold her balance by bending her knees.

"Argh," she groaned. Pushing back with all her might she rose into an upright position again. Then she kicked her attacker's shin. The dark haired man jumped back with a whimper.

She sucked in harsh breaths, feeling tired from the exertion. Her strength wasn't physical power. Compared to her opponent, she was physically weaker, but she'd trained hard and relentlessly to polish her skills in speed and flexibility.

With a roar she jumped towards him and feinted a straight blow. As he rose his sword to block the impact, she shifted to her left. Strands of blonde hair fell into her face. In the blink of an eye she hit his hand with the end of her handle and knocked the sword out of his hand.

"Ouch! You're not supposed to break my bones during sparring, Mayura," her teacher complained, supporting the hand she'd hit with his other. Jinya was older than her. Almost a decade older. Although they weren't related, she thought of him as an uncle. Since her father's death, he had taken care of her, for which she was utterly grateful.

"And what was that earlier? You could have sliced me in two," she countered.

"I knew you would block the hit," he replied cheekily, smirking at her. His pointed face with the narrow eyes did not look kind, yet when he smirked like that, she could not help but smile.

Turning around, she walked to the small, shabby shed they used to store their weapons in. It might have been for storage of wheat or rice once; now, it was rotting away. They used it to keep weapons and tools for field work as dry as possible without them lying around in the house. It must have been built long before the larger house next to it, which did not look quite as shabby, and which she called her home.

Mayura sighed, tired and weary. It felt she was doing nothing but training these days. Not only was it eating on her physically, but she'd rather spend her time with the others who worked on the field, cooked, washed and looked out for the smaller children. Also she really missed hanging out with her best friend. Yet, she was forced to spend her time improving her skills in swordsmanship, training her reaction speed, her balance and accuracy. And everything just because of some legend that nobody knew if it would come true.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Frustrated she turned around and wailed, "Can we call it a day now, please? I am very tired."

"You know that the monster will never rest either," Jinya said, frowning at her. The scar beneath his right eye budged and bowed, curved like a smile. It was one of his favorite arguments, whenever she complained about her training.

"But we don't know if the legend will ever come true." Aggravated, Mayura raised her hands and gesticulated wildly. "What if it is not about me? What if it is about my children?"

"Your father said similar things, but in a different tone," her uncle rebuked her. "He did everything to protect you. He gave his own life to do so."

It felt like a stab to her heart. She should have foreseen him mentioning her father. The proud and strong man who gave his life for her when the henchmen of the monster had searched for them.

They had never found his body.

Huffing, Mayura's arms fell to her sides and her gaze to the ground. "I know, but I- I have never seen one of them." She shrugged, feeling helplessly. It wasn't that she was afraid to fight. She was afraid to fail. Swallowing down her biggest doubt, she formulated one of the few ones that had been on her mind for a while, "How do they look? Will I recognize the monster, if it stood in front of me?"

"You ought to do what was promised." Again, one of the sentences she'd heard thousand times before. The burden pressed down on her shoulders, making her feel small.

Jinya stood in front of her on the trampled path between the shabby shed and the orphanage, arms crossed and chin raised. The only thing moving was his pony tail whipping in the wind. His face was hard – as if it was carved in stone. There was no compassion or empathy in his gaze, now.

Nevertheless she tried to get him to fathom the reasons of her doubts, shaking her head in defeat. "I've never killed anyone. How am I supposed to do this?"

He put a hand onto her shoulder and squeezed it slightly. "You have the blood of the Amawaka lineage running through your veins."

Blood. That was all it was about. A legend of blood. Yet, she could not see how the last of the Amawaka bloodline, who was said to stop the monster, was supposed to be her, especially when she thought blood to be as thick as water for all of her brothers and sisters that weren't related to her. What was the importance of blood when she had a family bound by fate and luck?

Suddenly she heard the sound of thumping and turned around and saw a blonde girl her age running with stomping large steps towards them. It was Yuki who started yelling, "Jinya! Jinya!" She came to a stop in front of said man and breathed harshly, bending her upper body down with hands stemmed against her knees.

Evil foreboding rained down on Mayura. Her muscles tensed and quivered. Her fears were confirmed, when Yuki straightened her posture and uttered, "They are here. He is here. They besieged the village and took prisoners."

Gasping, Mayura rose a shaking hand to her heart.

Jinya grabbed Yuki's shoulders and shook her, "Who was with you in the village? Where are they?"

"Rokuro," Yuki squeaked. She started sobbing and groaned out, "They took Rokuro."

* * *

A/N: Yuki is not an OC but one of the Hiinatsuki children. :'(


	2. Game of Fate and Rules of Luck

_A/N: ... This fic actually passed the first round of the contest. Yay! XD It is so exciting!^^ So what's next? I need to update new chapters so that the story reaches a total of 8k words. (Which it doesn't have yet, meaning the next update will be out very, very soon. :P)_

 **Game of Fate and Rules of Luck**

The stink of fear drifted into his nose. He watched them, the villagers that weren't the same he had grown to know, but yet were similar.

Recalling typical face lines, the curve of an eyebrow and the particular length of a nose, he recognized features of their ancestors within the faces that were shaded with light and shadows cast by the lantern nearby. And yet, in the obscurity of his millionth night, he did not recognize anyone. Was the butcher's family still the best fed? Did the current sewer sell his flimsy and thin clothes for horrendous prizes, too?

With eyes of the past he let his gaze run over the fire-lit, narrow streets. His hands were buried in the pockets of his long black coat, even though they never ran cold. It was a habit from when he was alive, just like the scarf and the high collar protecting his neck.

The village had changed since the times he had grown up. A lot of the wooden houses had been replaced with stone, but he could see himself as a small boy stumbling down the main street, hunger claiming his consciousness. He could see himself eagerly picking up an apple that had dropped of a cart.

Centuries ago he had been nothing but an orphan trying to survive. Now he had returned to Narukami to fulfill the promise that was made. Yet, the shadow of the young boy had followed him through time and space.

"Shimon," the voice of his brother startled him. The scene of the past dissolved in front of his eyes, leaving only the present behind. The hungry boy was no more.

Turning around, he took in the irritated look of Keiji. His brother stood in front of their brethren, all of whom had chosen to follow them, when they had faced the choice between a lost life or an infinite death.

"Is it one of them?" Keiji asked, nodding his head towards the villagers.

Once more Shimon skipped his eyes to the wooden cage in the village center, not far from the fountain. While ignoring the nasty smell of fear, which burned his nostrils, he mustered the fear-ridden faces. He doubted that the last of the Amawaka lineage was hidden within a bunch of sobbing mortals trying to hide in the shadows of the lantern's fire. None of them seemed courageous enough to be the one who was fated to stop him. Nobody dared to counter his gaze; nobody – except one.

Blinking, Shimon walked towards the cage, holding the eye contact. It was a boy, a young man with strands of unruly brown hair falling in his face, similar in age to the one Shimon died at. He didn't seem special. His clothes looked cheap, brittle suspenders holding dirty trousers above a yellowed shirt. His eyes though, his hazelnut colored eyes were almost red, as if they were filled with blood and flickering fire.

Interesting.

Shimon tilted his head to the side and approached the boy. Going to his knees to see eye to eye with him in the low cage, Shimon asked, "What is your name, boy?"

"Why would I tell you?" the boy barked back, making some of his comrades gasp and shriek. Either he was overly courageous or outright stupid to respond like this in his situation. That did not smolder Shimon's interest though. He could be the one, the other one, his counterpart of the legend.

All of a sudden a loud, childish giggle pierced through the arisen commotion, silencing the prisoners altogether. It would have made his blood turn cold, too, if it hadn't stopped flooding so long ago. Many things had changed since back then. Her giggle now was a sharp contrast to the kind laughter and sweet smile she had given him, when they both had been breathing.

Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he looked at his little sister and straightened his legs. "I thought the mayor's mansion was already prepared for you."

Grinning at him, Sayo set her pointed teeth on full display. Like the child she was, she replied, "Yup, but I got bored."

As it was his fate, she was frozen in time. Only, she was trapped in the small body of a twelve year old, which merely reached up to his chest. Forever caught in the transition of a child to a lady.

"You shouldn't be here," he told his sister with a frown.

She ignored his reprimand and looked towards the cage. Her large, icy blue eyes were tainted with mirth, when she pointed at the brown-haired boy and chirped, "I like this one. Can I keep him to play?"

Never able to deny a wish to his sister, Shimon nodded. It was fine to him. He needed to inspect the boy further anyway. He couldn't leave her without a warning though, knowing too well how her games got out off hand from time to time. "Make sure you don't kill him."

"Alrighty," she replied with a cheerful grin.

Shimon nodded. His sight shifted towards his entourage, a dozen of men and women he and his siblings had turned, and a hand full of men who had bought their lives in exchange for their loyalty to him; his henchmen working in the shadows of the day. The whole lot of his companions waited for his orders like it had been taught to them.

Rising his voice, Shimon commanded, "Bring the boy to my sister's room. The rest of the prisoners will be our banquet at the ball. You can have fun with them beforehand but make sure to carry out the preparations and be ready to join the festivities."

Some of his followers cheered, while others simply nodded. After waiting a few moments to make sure nobody needed further instructions, he turned around, towards the narrow roads leading away from the center, and followed reminiscent traits of his past.

Tonight they would celebrate his arrival, his homecoming. If the boy wasn't the last Amawaka, he needed to lure the real one out of his hiding. And then the legend would finally come true.

His gaze caught sight of a nailed plank covering the hole of a wooden storage, which he and his siblings had used to grab some wheat to grind and bake a bite of bread from. Sharply Shimon turned his head away.

Refusing to let the past interfere, he walked further ahead. All the while his part of the legend echoed in his head for the millionth time in ages:

 _He, who had played with a god, has his own path to follow.  
He will come to naught or spread further sorrow. _

_He, who had died once and lived twice, can free his soul,  
paying the price by pouring the blood of his fated foe._

 _In blood born, in blood it ends._

* * *

Darkness had spread over the lands as the sun sunk.

Usually, they weren't allowed to travel from the orphanage to the village at night, for the path was dangerous even if it was lit by the moon. Usually, Mayura followed the rules and reminded the other children to stick to them. Usually, Mayura was not rebellious.

Today she made an exception.

As the pitch-black silhouettes of the village came into sight, she wondered if today was the day, the legend would become true. The words of the old legend resounded in her head while she hurried to the village in long strides:

 _When the past and future become one,  
when branches of fate, bow towards each other;  
Then the monster will be undone. _

_Only they who are the last Amawaka can fulfill the deed.  
Only they who are the last of their blood will complete their ancestors' lead._

 _Born in blood, it ends in blood._

Even after everything that occurred, she had never been able to fathom her being the one of the legend. This tale had been told for centuries and she thought she would be just one of the ancestors of the last. To her it had always been a tale of the future.

Today she had to admit that she had been wrong once again. The future was now. It was only waiting, a few feet ahead in the village of Narukami, for her to become a part of it.

A twist of fate, for it reminded her of the last day she'd seen her father.

Growing up Mayura had a hard time in believing the legend was true at all. For decades nobody had seen one of the blood drinking creatures called bloodgorgers. They had been just part of myths and tales.

That had been until the day her father died. The day she turned twelve, still insecure and clumsy with a sword, he'd followed a plead that lead him into village at night. By the time the sun rose, there had been no trace left; none of the bloodsuckers, nor one of her father. Rumors about a gruesome fight was all that she had left of him, except for a leather band she tied her hair with, which he'd given to her when her hair had grown too long.

Mayura took a deep breath as the memories called forth tears, blurring her sight. This had happened more than six years ago. She had spent enough time grieving. Right now, she had more urgent matters to deal with.

The worst right now was that her best friend's life was in danger, because he had been taken captive by the monster and its breed.

One moment she had been thinking about Rokuro and wished to throw pebbles in the lake with him, competing to see which one of them drew bigger circles, like they used to, growing up. In the next, Yuki came running to the orphanage, telling her and Jinya that the brown-haired boy had jumped in front of Yuki to give her a chance to flee, by risking his own life.

And so Mayura was on her way as soon as she heard from his abduction, despite Jinya's vivid protests.

She hoped Rokuro was fine and prayed to the gods for his safety.

Finally she reached the trenches surrounding the village. Although it was dark outside, it was too quiet in the village. A few fires were lit in the buildings but Mayura could see nobody inside while passing them. This was strange.

Suddenly high pitched scream tore through the gruesome silence. Shocked Mayura jumped away from the window she looked into. Goosebumps rose on her skin. The source of the scream could not be too far from her. She gulped on the terror rushing through her and turned to the direction of the sound.

Quickly she rounded the building, walking on the heels of her high boots to keep the sound of her steps low. When she reached the corner, she carefully leaned her head forward to see around it.

Beneath the shine of a lantern she saw two figures standing close to each other. Looking closer Mayura noticed the smaller figure sway from one side to another, and she was able to hear a desperate whimper. It would have given her the impression of a passionate lover's embrace, if it hadn't been for the scream from earlier.

Grabbing the handle of her sword, which was fastened to her belt, she advanced. Upon coming closer she made out the slim figure of a girl in a dress being held by a broad-shouldered person dressed in white. Mayura shuddered, when she heard slurping and sucking sounds coming from the latter.

Pulling her sword out of its sheath and pointing it towards the taller figure, she exclaimed, "You- You there. Stop what you are doing."

The figure stopped the assault on the girl's neck and pulled away, before it turned its head.

Mayura gasped at the sight. A blackened eye with a pupil red as blood and the other white but with a golden pupil stared back at her. A despicable scar ran over the face down over its mouth, from which blood was tripping, to the chin. Holy gods –

Mayura jumped back. The sword in her hand quivered.

It was one of them! The creatures turned into blood drinking beasts, the bloodgorgers. She had never known how they looked exactly. She had learned about them from stories, but never had been able to picture them.

Now she knew. They were grotesque and despicable, as ugly on the outside as on the inside.

"What are you doing here with a sword, miss?" The thing asked her in a surprisingly human voice, giving her the creeps.

"Ste- Step back," Mayura uttered. Her arm shook in contrast to her warning.

The thing let go of the woman who fell to the ground with a sigh. It turned to face Mayura fully. Despite the horrendous face it looked like a man.

Mayura was shaken with fear. How was she supposed to fight an enemy like this? How was she supposed to destroy a creature which looked like a man and nothing alike at the same time? She'd never fought one of them.

As if he read her thoughts, her opponent confirmed her reservations by saying, "Don't you think you shouldn't be here?"

Her sight wavered, her eyes rushed from the man who was no man to the ground, to the girl, to him again. The sight of his white uniform was a sharp contrast to the blood pouring from his mouth. She heard her own harsh breathing and the beat of her heart like the whistling of wind and rain slapping against wood.

Indeed. What was she doing here?

From the corner of her eyes she noticed him drawing out a handkerchief. He used it to dab his mouth. His other hand was crossed behind his back in a posture of discipline. "Do you want to run away now?"

Yes. Yes, she wanted to run away. To never look back, to leave this burden, which had been passed onto her shoulders, far behind. To shake it off. Yet...

Her fingers tightened around the handle of the sword. She swallowed heavily on the knot of doubt.

Yet, she could not leave Rokuro behind and she could not ignore what was happening here. Whether she was the last of Amawaka or not, she would help those in need. Especially if they were stupid fools attracting danger, like her best friend was. Especially if they were innocent girls, younger and weaker than her.

She would protect them!

Taking in a deep breath, Mayura straightened her postures. Her blade became an extension of her arm, which she pointed at the gorger.

Determination seeped through her veins as she stated, "I won't run away. Prepare yourself!"

With that she rushed to the blood drinking creature, her blade pointed towards his heart, lying calm in her hands.

* * *

At the corner of a house, hidden in the shadows, Shimon watched the newly arrived young woman with interest.

When he had stumbled upon Higano relishing his hors d'oeuvre, Shimon had meant to simply walk past without interrupting; but then a blonde, dressed in beige trousers and a fitting vest above a white blouse, had entered the scene. Swiftly he had stepped back to watch.

Surprised, he observed her, how she retrieved a sword and held it towards his subordinate. Asking himself who this woman was, this woman in men's clothing, yet tailored to fit her shape. She was swinging a sword He felt some rush of emotion that he had not felt in a long time – excitement.

His excitation, however, was blown in the moment a sniff of her fear filled his nose. The sword in her hand was shaking like a leaf while she talked to Higano. This was just a girl playing hero, he thought, unusually disappointed.

She surprised him again.

The scent slowly dissolved. An aura of might surrounded her. Her soft voice, which had been fragile as clay, turned into iron. It was iron that was acute like a fang, but righteous and straight like her sword. She told Higano to prepare himself. Without waiting a second she plunged the sword deeply into Shimon's subordinate's chest. In the next moment his unlucky comrade turned into body of ash, which fell apart and flew off with the wind.

Shimon watched her, intrigued. Her movements were trained, the thrust of her sword held deadly intent. She knew how to kill one of his kind and did it without breaking into sweat.

What were the chances that he had now found two candidates for being the one to stop him? A courageous brown haired boy and a blonde woman, both at the age he'd been at when his heart had stopped beating.

When it was over, she stood as if in trance. Her sword was a gray line drawn in the space between them, unmoved from the spot where it had stuck in Higano's body.

Moments spilled by until the arm holding the sword fell to her side. She tilted her head down and returned the weapon to its sheath.

It was time for him to leave the scene, but his feet seemed to be frozen to their spot, unwilling to move. Something was different about her. Although he had seen lots of different creatures and many human girls, she did not match any of the mental pictures he'd collected over time.

He stared as she bowed down to the female form on the ground and shook her awake. From where he was standing, he could only hear the word _orphanage_ coming from a gentle and soothing voice.

Orphanage... The word did something to him. It was almost as if his heart soared in a long forgotten melody.

Orphanage... Back when he was living in Narukami there was no such thing here. He and his siblings had been the only orphans in town, having nobody to look after them but themselves, which they had managed, until he and his brother had turned into men and his sister –

Irritated he jerked his head away from the scene and the memory it bore. It was odd indeed, this – emotion, like an old friend estranged through time. How did it come to that? What happened, that he was feeling like this right now?

"Hello?" The gentle voice, louder than before, startled him out of his thoughts and he remained motionless. She was addressing him, now. When did she spot him?

"Excuse me, sir. Are you a merchant?"

Shimon frowned, confused about the display of her naivety. He faced her. She stood a few feet away, fleshed out by the light of a lantern nearby. Her eyes bewitched him like no enchantress had ever been able to, as deep as the seas he'd crossed and even more blue.

Catching himself, he replied, "Who wants to know?"

"I'm sorry to bother you. Do you know what happened in this village? I'm searching for someone." The big blue eyes were filled with so much worry that he could almost taste it.

His eyes ran over her heart-shaped face, which was framed by blonde hair fading off into a light green, and held back by a tie. His eyes dropped to the high collar and the red bow fastening it around her neck. Thunderstruck, his eyes were glued to the red tie and he needed to tear his eyes away up to her eyes again. He had no idea what was going on but he did not like it at all.

With a controlled voice her answered her question, "The village was besieged, the villagers taken captive."

The clear blue of her eyes darkened as they mustered his face in return now. Her eyebrows crunched down a bit. His senses made notice of a sudden tension in her limbs.

This time her voice sounded less soft, when she inquired, "How come you aren't one of them?"

Finally she showed suspicion. He wondered if she would draw her sword and play out fate right here and now, or if she would follow his invitation to the stage he'd like to set first. "They released the prisoners to have fun with them before the ball."

"The ball?" Her eyebrows rose to her forehead.

Feeling much more in control now, Shimon told her.

"To celebrate the arrival of the monster. If you are searching for somebody, you will certainly find them there. It starts an hour before the clock strikes midnight in the mayor's mansion."

Her eyes dropped to the ground and she mumbled, "I don't know how I could get in there."

It was odd how she transformed from a focused fighter to – this. Shimon couldn't help but scowl, as he offered her another piece of his invitation. "They have humans in their ranks. You might as well get in through the main entrance."

With eyes still glued to the ground she slowly nodded. He was not prepared for the sting in his chest when she lifted her eyes and met his.

"Thank you, Mr. –?"

"Shimon Ikaruga," he replied quickly.

"Thank you, Mr. Ikaruga," she said in tender tones. The corners of her lips lifted into a soft smile that was as dangerous as it was sweet.

He must have missed a few seconds, trying to recall when was the last time somebody had called him like this, if ever, for when he focused on her again, she had turned into the direction she had come from. Without thinking he blurted out, "Miss?"

Later, he would need to think about his actions. They were confusing him right now. Perhaps it was a sign, the sign that she was the one he had been searching for, after all.

Stopping, she looked over her shoulder with raised eyebrows, "Hn?"

"You haven't told me your name."

"My name is Mayura Otomi," she let him know with just a hint of another sweet smile before she walked towards the girl she'd just saved.

 _Mayura Otomi_ , the name resounded in his head as he watched her support the other girl's weight onto her shoulder.

In a short time he would see her again and learn if she was indeed the last of the Amawaka lineage.

Shimon turned around, walking through the shades of the night and towards the mayor's mansion, with a small smile and a strange, unknown appetite.

He had arrangements to make and a ball to prepare for.

* * *

 _A/N: How did you like it? You might notice how this is more Westernized (for various reasons) than my other fics. Hope you like it!_


	3. Clash of Fates

A/N: Better late than never. Finished the 8k for the next stage of the contest! Hope it gets a chance for the last round.

 **Clash of Fates**

Pulling the skirt of the dress once more upwards, as it slipped through her fingers a bit, Mayura walked towards the center of the dead silent village. It was true, all the villagers had disappeared. So they were held captive and Mayura knew where to find them. The conditions of this rescue operation were making her quite nervous. But what else could she do? If the villagers were in the mansion, she needed to get in there.

The voluminous skirt threatened to fall off again and she griped more of the cloth into her hand, just above the spot where her sword was dangling off from her hips.

She had been lucky that the girl whom she had saved was able to procure a dress for her before Mayura sent her off to the orphanage. The dress wasn't excessively fancy but it would do. A laced up corsage fastened the dress tightly around her torso to her waist. From there the skirt began, a huge _thing_ thanks to the underskirt. Lots and lots of stitches made it fall in folds.

The boots she was wearing beneath kicked the earth. She was on her way to save Rokuro. But the closer she was to reaching the destination, the more nervous she became. What if an army of bloodsuckers was waiting for her? What if she couldn't just slip into the mayor's mansion like the stranger said?

Mayura huffed when she pictured him. The stranger named Shimon Ikaruga – He had taken her by surprise. In many ways.

After she'd defeated the demon and come back to her senses, she had taken care of the girl lying on the cold floor. Luckily, she had been alive, even if weak from the loss of blood.

And then almost as if she was called out, her gaze turned into the direction of him: A man cloaked in black and covered by shadows.

Her feet had worked on their own and soon she was standing in front of him, trying to make sense of his icy blue eyes, heavy and glued to the floor, and red hair that was so unlike the dull colors of his clothing.

She both startled them out of their trances, when she asked him who he was and it was only him telling her about the prisoners that she remembered common sense. He did not look anything like the bloodsucker. Far from it. Yet, she was wary of him – caught between wonder and caution about this man – until he told her about the ball.

For a split of a second she wondered, where the stranger had gone off to and if she would see him ever again.

Mayura shook her head. She had a mission to concentrate on. She wasn't allowed to think about a stranger, no matter how handsome and interesting he was.

She'd never seen such a man though. In Narukami, only farmers and craftsmen lived. The only other people who'd ever visited were tax gatherers or merchants buying food supplies and selling their goods from the cities. This man had not been a man from Narukami either, yet he seemed different from the people of the cities, she had met before. His eyes they had harbored strength, something superior and intellectual and then there was something that felt more familiar about him than strange.

Turning around the corner of a house, the mayor's mansion filled her sight, towering over the courtyard in front. It was bigger than any other house, filling up more space with its surrounding gardens, the high pillars holding a pediment above a broad stone staircase. It almost looked as it usually did, with the exception of the two guards in front of it and a fire glinting in every room.

Mayura took in a deep breath. Would they just let her in like the stranger said? Even if there were humans who worked for the monster, would they let her in just like that?

Nibbling on her lips, she tried to fight down the tension in her legs. It made her steps more clumsy. Nervously she fingered the handle of her sword through the cloth of the skirt. If they attacked, she needed to swiftly take care of them.

There was a melodic tune of violins coming from the house. The nearer she walked, the louder it was.

She swallowed the anxiety welling in her throat. Two heads snapped to her direction. At least they both looked human, but them staring at her while holding onto their swords did nothing to make her feel less self-conscious. Her gaze fell to her feet as she followed the flight of stairs up to the front door. She planned to ignore the guards and reached out for the handle of one of the massive oak doors.

The razing of metal against metal made her jump back. Two swords crossed in front of her, blocking the door. She felt the solid hilt of her sword in her hand as her pulse quickened.

Not yet. She would attack, if they gave her a reason. But not yet. They were humans after all. Even if they served the monster, she refused to kill a human being. Or rather could not – even earlier, after she had executed the demon, the weight of ending an existence had made her stop in her tracks.

"Where do you think you're going?" The guard on the right asked.

Her eyes skipped to him. Dark bags hung low beneath his eyes in a pale face. Dull pupils mustered her. While her hand cramped into the cloth and the handle beneath, she tried to remain calm on the outside and told him, "To the ball of course."

"Mayura Otomi?"

"Um, yes," she mumbled while her mind stumbled on so many questions at once. Had one of the villagers betrayed her identity? Who of them? Only few knew that she was the daughter of Seigen Amawaka. Was it because of the stranger? Did he belong to the group controlled by the monster?

The dull eyes left hers and he looked over to his companion before he nodded. The swords were retrieved.

Mayura had to stop herself from making any noise, it would betray her surprise. This was way too easy. Almost like an invitation. Yet, she was not sure why she would be... invited like this. Did they know the last of the Amawaka lineage was about to enter the lion's den?

With uncertainty, she nodded, but kept her hand on the hilt while entering. There was no going back now. And what other opportunities did she have exactly?

She released a shaky breath when the door fell into the hinges behind her. Mayura let her eyes roam over the room.

The mayor had lived high above the standard of the others and the sight of luxury, from the bleached wooden paneling to the black leather furnishings, as well as the smell of perfumed candles and oil made her feel sick. Mayor Arima had always been known to have an extraordinary and expensive taste – unfortunately built on others' expenses.

She followed the sound of music down the hallway and entered the ballroom to her left. It was huge and, surprisingly, filled with many people – none of whom she recognized. She shuddered. Goosebumps blossomed on her skin.

There was no sign of terror. No sign of fear. No blood-thirsty monsters. Nevertheless, or even more so, her instincts ran havoc. Her heart was pound in her chest.

Where were the evil creatures? Who were these people? Where were the prisoners? Where was Rokuro?

She would have loved to draw her sword to make herself feel less vulnerable. Her only comfort was the knowledge that she could enarmor herself and fight in a matter of seconds. Admittedly, other than that she lacked knowledge. Having no idea how to grasp this situation, Mayura scowled. Tension glued her to her spot, the entrance, beneath the carved arch leading into the ballroom.

Her eyes ran over the figures, conversing in groups or pairs in a corner or dancing in the middle of the room. None of them looked like bloodgorgers, not like the one she had met. Neither did anyone behave like the gorgers. They were said to be animalistic, jumping their prey, sucking them dry of their blood and howling like wolves on a stormy night afterwards.

What was going on here? Where were the gorgers? Where was the monster of the legend?

Captured in a state of apprehension, Mayura swallowed heavily. Her sight fluttered to the row of large, arched windows framed with thick curtains, heavy with the color of onyx. She wanted to run. She wanted to leave this burden of fate behind.

In this moment she took notice of her own reflection. Eyes, widened in fear, stared back at her.

Her fingers clenched around the skirt. She did not want to be overwhelmed by her fears. She refused to give up before knowing what was going on and where Rokuro and the other prisoners where. She hadn't stormed into this house without any form of security or guarantee just to flee.

Tearing her eyes from the windows and taking a step forward, her move met the rhythm of the melancholic song the violins were playing.

Then her gaze found him. He stood in the middle of the ballroom and she came to a stop again as the tune of music changed while her eyes drank on the sight of him.

Mr. Ikaruga looked as handsome as he did earlier, only now had he discarded his woolen coat and revealed a black jacket reaching over his hips, which reminded her of a general, with its epaulets and high collar. Puffy hems were sticking out beneath the cuffs, a gray vest hid his dress shirt and swallowed the end of a silky scarf which was wound around his neck.

As her gaze ran over his figure, he turned around. Their eyes met. Her heart clenched and her surroundings blurred. What was happening?

Everything else dulled, as their eyes held each other. He walked towards her and

without thinking about it, Mayura crossed the white tiled floor decorated with black ornaments, which resembled branches entwined.

Excitement filled her, banishing the anxiety and fear she had felt earlier. Her heart fluttered in her chest not because of panic but anticipation as they came to a stop in front of each other. The voice of reason in her head grew quiet and she did not question this unnatural pull towards the stranger, when he reached out a hand for her and asked, "May I have this dance?"

Agape Mayura stretched her hand towards him. Her fingers sank onto his cold palm.

* * *

Shimon looked around. There was no sign of Mayura Otomi yet. He wondered if she would come. Knowing that the place was filled with enemies must have made her nervous, no matter how courageous she was. He hoped she would come.

Sipping on a glass filled with warm blood he'd poured himself earlier from the cask, he stood at the side of the ballroom and watched his men amuse themselves.

Celebration were one of those things that kept them motivated. They needed it now since the news of Higano's departing had shocked them all.

It did not come as a surprise that the musicians let their violins ring with a tune of grief now.

Nevertheless Shimon had not expected, that it weren't his human fellow travelers who reacted the most. No, it had been Higano's kin which replied the announcement with wide opened eyes and gritted teeth that cried for revenge. He had not known them to harbor this kind of emotions. Not only because they were undead. Their kind was a blood-thirsty and unsentimental one. That was why he had chosen them to follow him after all, when his quest had brought him to their realm.

The realm they came from, Magano, was one filled with trash, forgotten emotions and memories. The creatures there lived on human waste. And after Shimon had been tired of his immortality and his caged-in ability to feel, he was lucky to find them. They weren't loyal like his siblings but they weren't egocentric as humans. Their bloodlust made them easier to handle.

So it had been unexpected that he had to appease their anger at the loss of their ally, reassuring that they wouldn't get in his way, when Miss Otomi appeared. Vengeance would be wreaked for certain.

He raised his glass for his passed away subordinate before placing it onto a tray on a white clothed table beneath a row of polished candle sconces. With a tint of resentment he thought that the current mayor had an expensive taste. It appeared, nothing had changed concerning this; people got rich on the backs of the poor. It was only a small form of compensation that the mayor was now imprisoned in the cellar like everyone else. And like everyone else he would be released for the big meal at midnight.

Walking to the center of the luxurious ballroom, Shimon felt impatience rise. It was an ornate stage on which the last act would take place. This time he would make sure that he found the last of the Amawaka lineage.

He looked outside the windows and only saw his own reflection, torn by the window mullions: The picture of a young man – a lie.

The weeping of violins tuned out and was replaced with a sound of merriment. The transition was odd. With a frown he turned around towards the musicians, playing in a corner of the room. His turn, however, came to a stop when he saw her.

Refusing to acknowledge, how he _felt_ something stir within and tingles rise to his skin, he allowed his eyes to consume the impression of her.

The dress she wore did nothing to hide her feminine figure. That was not was caught his eyes though. With irritation he took in her unique fashion, when he spotted a glimpse of boots beneath the dress almost touching the floor. The corner of his lips slightly rose while he wondered, if she was a lady or a slayer – or both – in this very moment.

When his gaze skipped upwards to her eyes, they caught his own in a trance.

His feet moved on their own, crossing the few steps between them and meeting her halfway. Soon he stood in front of her, taking notice of how she was a head smaller than him. Thoughtlessly he reached out a hand for her and asked, "May I have this dance?"

She placed her hand into his. Warmth poured from her skin into his, making his blood soar.

Their gazes were locked and he forgot himself.

Placing his hand on the small of her back, he began to lead her in a simple dance. She answered his steps in powerful, yet graceful strides and they found themselves even in a steady rhythm.

Swaying and turning, neither of them broke the rhythm until the piece of music tuned out. They stopped moving. Yet, her right hand remained rested on his shoulder and the other within his.

It was only when she cleared her throat, that he remembered why they were here.

Low and slightly coarse, she mumbled, "I thought the music was too sad to dance to before."

"It was. Luckily the musicians have swallowed down the clump of black bile they were biting on," Shimon replied despite the insignificance of the subject.

It was not important. Important was if she was the last of Amawaka. Yet, he could not bring himself to raise the topic, while he was warmed by her proximity and the tingle of her breath. Instead of asking himself for the reason of this or investigating her origin, he started to lead her anew when the instruments played another tune.

This time she did not answer in kind. Their movements were off. Rising his eyes to look into her eyes again, he saw something flicker within them.

Before he could address her obvious reserve, she inquired, "What are you doing here, Mr. Ikaruga?"

Ah, there was the rub. Granted, she was right to question his presence within enemy terrain. Like he himself, she had been careless earlier as they both forgot their roles.

"Observing," he answered truthfully while making her spin.

They rejoined for the basic dance step but he read only more suspicion in her gaze.

"Observing what?"

His eyes left her, while searching for a reply. For the first time since they started dancing he noticed how they were the attraction of the room, only a few danced beside them, while others watched. It was understandable. Within his hands was the one who had killed Higano. Close to their reach was a slayer and he was just dancing with her.

Shimon licked his lips. After half a turn, he caught glimpse of Keiji. His brother stood among the spectators, watching him with uncovered surprise, reminding Shimon of his original goal.

Twisting Miss Otomi around and into his arms at the next beat, he leaned his head forward and whispered into her ear, "Our surroundings."

He ignored how she shuddered against him and swung her out of their close embrace.

Her eyes turned bright. With a raised eyebrow, she uttered, "Do you think they know?"

"Stay calm and act normal," he told her.

She nodded and they continued to dance. Nevertheless he took in the scent of her nervousness. It wasn't as pungent as fear but not less conspicuous. A change of subject was long overdue.

"May I ask how old you are, Miss Otomi?"

Surprise crossed her eyes and she missed a step. The hem of her dress wobbled. But like in her fight against Higano she recovered quickly and said, "You may and it's 18."

So she was actually the same age, he was forever bound to. He shortly wondered, if it was another trick of the gods. It did not matter though. All he could do was continue with his investigations.

After leading her into another swing, he rose her left hand and bestowed a kiss to her knuckles, instead of pulling her back. There was no ring. No husband most likely meant no child. "Already 18, yet unmarried," he commented and resumed their dance.

"I did not come here to let you make fun of me, Mr. Ikaruga," she retorted with a deep frown.

"You can call me Shimon and I am sorry for intruding in your privacy. I just felt that there is a story behind this."

"Getting married is the least of my concerns," she responded firmly.

"So you have family to watch over? Siblings?"

"I have," she replied to his surprise.

He couldn't stop his voice from wavering, when he exclaimed, "You do?"

He had seen himself so close at his goal to have found the last of the Amawaka lineage and now there was a chance this person was not the last.

However, she was silencing the alarm ringing in his head, when she explained with a gentle smile, "Yes, a lot of brothers and sisters of the orphanage."

Shimon huffed a breath and immediately sympathized with her. There was irony in how similar they were. "I can relate to this. My brother and sister had always been the reason for my happiness and my biggest worries."

Her voice sounded soft and kind, when she asked, "What happened to them?"

"Hn?" He blinked his eyes at her. This time it was he who made a misstep. Neither had he expected compassion from her nor to direct the path of their conversation.

"You speak of them as if they aren't with us anymore." Her hand on his shoulder tightened its grip slightly. His steps were slightly off and he noticed how easily she slipped into charge, taking the lead.

"They are," he murmured, telling her only one half of the truth. They were and weren't and all was of it had been his fault. Gritting his teeth, he tried to stay calm. His biggest misery was that he had failed his siblings and somehow these feelings lay bare, dug up from their eternal sleep.

There was no point for regret though. He could not undo what had happened.

Her voice called him out of his inner monologue, when she mumbled, "I don't understand –"

"So you see, I can relate," he quickly interrupted. Reclaiming his composure, he turned her again.

She nodded with a small cease between her eyebrows. They took a few turns and after a while she replied, "They aren't my biggest concern right now though."

Shimon was grateful for her accepting the change of topic. "Then what is?"

"Saving my friend," she replied while the piece of music reached its climax. Her eyes were like a blue form of iron and fire, solid and fierce.

Now he remembered, how she had approached him only a few hours ago. She had said, she was searching for someone. One of the prisoners Shimon and his people had taken captive. He had bad taste in his mouth, when he asked. "Can you describe your friend to me?"

"Of course I can," she said. "He is my age. He has messy, brown hair and his eyes are hazelnut colored with a tint of red."

He stopped dancing, forcing her to stop as well.

The boy.

She just had described the boy whom he believed to be a possible candidate for his counterpart of the legend as well. The one who Sayo played with upstairs at the moment.

"What is it?"

"I can take you to him, if you want. I know where he is."

"What?"

"Follow me and stay close behind." He pulled her after him. Out of the ballroom and upstairs to the chamber his sister had taken residence in during their stay, not baiting an eye at anyone. Yet, he had no idea what he was doing in bringing both of them together. Or why he was doing it.

After all these centuries he was the one falling out of his role by straightforwardly ignoring the stage directions.

* * *

Why?

She asked herself, why she was feeling this way and why did he have such power over her.

Mr. Ikaruga – Shimon – walked up the stairs with her following suit, not minding anybody who looked at them. And everyone, they passed, did. She feared they were about to get into serious trouble and wondered, if he was able to fight.

She eyed his back. He looked strong and in spite of them dancing for a while, he did not appear to be out of breath.

Something was odd about him. She could not place her confusion, though, and she did not want to be ungrateful, because he was leading her to Rokuro. Something she might not have accomplished without him.

Also –

Mayura licked her lips.

Also there was something else about him. Something that had pulled her to him and made her forget about their surroundings altogether during their dance. Something that made her feel for him, when a mask of grief had occupied his face while talking about his siblings. Something that made her feel secure despite knowing everyone was watching them.

But now as they walked through the hallway of the top floor, framed by portraits of the mayor's ancestors, reality clutched her heart in a grasp of fear.

It was dangerous. What would have happened if a gorger had attacked them right then and there? Would she have been able to defend herself? Would she have been quick enough to unfasten the sword?

So why? Why was she dropping her guard so easily around him?

They rounded a corner. In the shadows ahead stood a small, hooded figure.

Evil foreboding washed over her. She shivered. Her grip tightened around Shimon's fingers. Yet, he did not stop. There was no sign of him bothering at all and she wondered if he was mad man, coming to the mansion and challenging danger. Maybe he liked to live on the edge.

They closed in on the person standing in the hallway. Mayura almost yelped when she recognized the split face of a gorger. Her muscles tensed, pulled tight like the string of a bow. In a hurry she reached out for the hilt of the sword and missed it once.

Shimon was almost on the same height and Mayura was about to scream out, when he walked past and – and the thing did not attack.

Shocked she looked at the thing as it let them walk past, looking eye to eye.

Dread filled her. What was going on? Why was he able to walk so freely through the mansion? Was this a trap?

A quiver ran over her skin.

He couldn't be –?

All of a sudden he stopped. She bumped into him.

Looking over her shoulder at her with a raised eyebrow, he made her thoughts trip over each other. There was no way he was a footman of the monster, right?

She now became aware that they stopped in front of door. Black oak almost swallowed in the shadows of the hallway.

The moment Shimon pressed down the handle, a mad giggles rose out of the room. One that made Mayura's blood freeze. It was not as gruesome as the sight that followed, when Shimon pushed the door open.

All Mayura saw was red.

* * *

 _A/N: How do you like it? Still interesting? Did you find something odd?_


	4. Peaks and Falls

A/N: Sorry for the long hiatus. Thanks to holiday madness I had not been able to continue working on this for a while. But it is finished. The last chapters will all be posted until the 31th January and THEN I will finally be able to work on Crystals again!

 **Peaks and Falls**

Red. The color invaded her sight, drained her thoughts and left her numb.

Obscure was the scene in front of her and her eyes were glued to the red stains on the bare chest of her best friend, from which droplets of blood sipped. The shirt hung around in tatters, tainted with dark blood stains.

Red. Mayura's gaze rushed from his chest, over his scrunched face, to the girl with flaming red hair standing next to the chair he was tied to. A child not much older than ten or eleven years old based on the chubby cheeks and big eyes which many of the children of the orphanage this age shared. The little girl giggled gruesomely before she licked blood from the dagger she held in one of her hands.

Mayura shivered at this monstrosity. Her mouth went dry and her feet were planted to her spot as she stared at the moved picture, mouth agape. Her muscles quivered in shock.

This child was no child at all.

The girl's tongue slid over the dagger. Humming, she smacked her lips before her eyes skipped over to Shimon and her. Eyes clear and blue. Almost as icy as Shimon's.

Mayura choked on a breath. Her mind tripped over words faraway from understanding.

"I really like this one, my dear brother. I think I want to make him one of us so we can be together forever," the girl suddenly said with a grin drowning out the crackling noise of the flames in the fireplace, which Mayura had not noticed until now.

But wait... Brother?

She gasped.

She didn't underst –

"Mayura!"

Startled, she jumped at the yell. Her eyes jerked to Rokuro.

Gnashing his teeth, he looked fiercely into their direction. Wild stands of brown hair fell around his face. Hate glowed in his eyes while leaning forward, squeezing fresh blood out of his cuts. Why?

He snarled, "Mayura, stand back from him. He is the monster!"

What?

Sucking in a trembling breath, Mayura's eyes swept, once again, from the cuts to the ropes holding Rokuro to the young girl, grinning into their direction. Pointed teeth glinted in the light of the fire.

Pointed teeth like a bloodgorger.

The girl spoke up again. Words which Mayura dully noted. "Have you brought another playmate?"

The monster was...

Her nostrils quivered inhaling sharply while tearing off her eyes from Rokuro and the horrifying girl, positioned not far from a large bed.

Turning her head, she released a sound caught between a sob and a gasp as her eyes found Shimon. Half of his face was darkened by the long shadows cast by the fireplace. He still stood next to her, looking all – irritated? Frustrated? Sorrowful? She could not place it.

"She's not a playmate, Sayo," he said in a low voice.

She could not place it and she did not understand what was happening. Rokuro had called him the monster. The girl resembling a gorger had addressed him as brother. Yet, Mayura saw Shimon, a man she had danced with, a man who displayed emotions right now based on his faltered eyebrows and clouded eyes. Far from the monster he was accused to be and closer to the brother he was claimed to be.

"What is she then?" The girl asked.

Mayura swallowed harshly. Her formerly dry throat burned in pain. Slow as a snail realization dawned in on her.

How was it possible she had not seen this sooner?

The truth had been right in front of her. It had been in the way he had radiated with power from the beginning, in the way he had moved freely through the mansion and the village, in the way he had talked about his siblings and in the way he had lead her directly to Rokuro without getting lost or taking a wrong turn once. She had confused inwardness with outwardness.

Her naivety had bested her. It was the one character trait her father had scolded the most and he always had told her how she must have inherited from her late mother.

"I'm not sure yet," _he_ said next to her.

She had been blinded. Though she had a hard time to accept what she now was able to see, she knew she had to shake out of this blurred version of reality.

Now, she had to act.

She gathered up the cloth of her skirt at two sides of her hip and pulled firmly on both corners. She dully noted Rokuro yelling her name again but stayed focused on the task at hand.

As she ripped on the silky but thin material of her skirt she wiped off her false imagination of the monster next to her.

The cloth hissed while being torn apart.

"What are you doing?" The monster asked. The question was directed at her this time.

She clenched her teeth together when anger and hurt replaced the shock and grief. Surprisingly, tears formed in the corners of her eyes.

Not only had he tricked her into believing him to be someone else, he had played with her, feeding her with emotions, she would love to lay down, together with the wrong notion she had of him. Sadly they were not connected anymore. Like an imprint the emotions where left inside of her.

Furiously she grabbed on the hilt of her sword now lying free for the taking.

How had he tricked her?

Had he used evil magic on her to make her like him, to nourish her fascination, only to taunt her sanity and strain her morals?

Without batting an eyelid she walked over to her tied up friend and the other gorger. The sword was pointed to the ground but her hold on the hilt was tight, squeezing out a creak from the leather.

Mayura had been wrong. This was no girl resembling a gorger. It was the other way around. Upon meeting the ugly, two-faced gorger earlier today, she had thought all of them looked like it. She had been mistaken. They were able to look like humans, too. A nasty disguise. This very misunderstanding had given the monster the opportunity to fool her, to lure her into his trap. He was like a snake taking a human form.

Now, the gorger-girl looked surprised, staring at Mayura with risen eyebrows and round eyes. The next moment she bared her teeth and twisted the dagger around for defense. "You won't take him from me," she growled.

"Stay aside and nothing will happen to you," Mayura told her calmly while approaching her with solid steps, steeling herself with every feet she crossed.

Truth be told, she was hesitant about killing a being which looked like a little and innocent girl, even if she knew that she was nothing like that, even if the extent of her atrociousness was evident on Rokuro's chest. Strains that shouldn't be on a chest of someone who shouldn't have gotten involved in the first place. He should be at the orphanage teasing the smaller ones and challenging the children. Children which were truly children.

"I won't let you take him away from me!" The gorger-girl yelled and ran towards her with a pointed dagger, leaving a lot of openings for Mayura to attack.

Lifting her sword into defense, she awaited the advance, pressing her lips together.

"No, Sayo!" Behind her Shimon gasped.

In the blink of an eye Mayura blocked the dagger directed towards her chest. The sword bend towards her direction, quivering against the dagger. The gorger was certainly stronger than an usual girl. However, she obviously had no experience fighting. Turning the gorger's strength to her own advantage, Mayura let the weapons' blades slide against each other, towards the hilt of the sword. With one hard push she jabbed the guard of her sword against the dagger. It jumped out of the gorgers hand and flew a few feet before landing with a clatter next to the windows. Mayura used the irritation of the moment and hurried past her opponent.

With quick slices she cut through the ropes binding Rokuro's arms and legs to the chair.

She finished freeing him in time to turn around and see the gorger-girl jumping towards her.

Gritting her teeth, Mayura knew this time there was nothing to block. She would need to go for the kill.

"Sayo, STOP!" Shimon yelled and surprisingly the gorger's steps faltered and she came to a halt.

With a pout and angry eyes, she turned around and whined, "Why?"

Mayura gazed at him as well. Shimon – no, the monster stood there, a hand stemmed into his hips. He clicked his tongue seemingly unnerved. In a low voice he explained, "Because I am her opponent."

Confused Mayura blinked at him. Why was he doing this? He could have escaped. He could have joined the fight to overpower her. Yet, he had done neither. Was he this assured of victory? Or did he perhaps want to protect the gorger-girl. For a moment the picture of his sad smile during their dance overlay the scowl on his face. Frustrated she shook her head. It had been a lie, a trick, a game.

Concentrating on him again, she watched him take the poker from next to the fireplace.

How was it possible that a monster was able to look as human as he did?

The fire pocker bobbed up and down in his hand as he shifted it in his grasp.

This was it. The fight against the monster of the legend became reality. Holding the poker like a sword, he shifted his legs into a fighting position. Mayura approached him.

* * *

The smell of ash and smoke invaded his senses, when he bend down to take the fire poker.

It weighed more than it should.

He had known it ought to happen. This fight. He had known it from the start and had wished for it since forever. Somehow deep down he knew – he felt – that she was the one and not the boy. He hadn't had his confirmation yet but the way he in a way was drawn to her like he was never drawn to any other Amawaka before.

The last one he met had been a few years ago. It felt like yesterday, when his henchmen brought this Amawaka to him. An incident which convinced him to search for the last Amawaka in person for it had been too late to pour his blood.

At this very moment two candidates for being the last of them were gathered in this very chamber. His chances never had been higher and yet he felt no happiness about what was to come. The irony of his fate. The foul play of a god would finally see to its end but Shimon could not relish in victory like he had thought he would.

Things had changed upon meeting her, Mayura Otomi.

Rolling the cool iron in his hand he prepared his weapon. He knew she was skilled. Had seen it in the way she'd dealt with Sayo so quickly with one push of her sword.

It had made him wonder why she was not going for the kill. When Sayo attacked he had feared the worst. His chest had felt heavy all of a sudden as he watched his little sister advance towards the blonde. Gasping, he had warned her, already picturing a cloud of ash replacing Sayo's body.

Instead of killing her, Miss Otomi had simply unarmed her.

Unlike with Higano, she did not assassinate Sayo. Perhaps it was because of Sayo looking like a child, perhaps it was an expression of the older girl's compassion.

It had added another piece of the mosaic that she was.

Shimon was not sure if he wanted to see the whole picture. In the last few hours this woman had made him feel, doubt and brood more than anything had in a century.

She faced him now.

Only once had she looked at him since they entered this room. He had sensed the tremble of her skin when she bestowed her gaze onto what lay in front of her. Had heard the sharp intake of breath. Had seen the look of disbelief and doubt brightening the blue of her eyes.

Now she looked nothing alike. Having steeled herself, her eyes were the only thing sharp now, besides her blade. They were darkened with anger and determination.

Both stared at each other, their respective weapons pointed towards the other.

Behind her Sayo fought to bound the boy back to the chair, who pried the hand covering his mouth off.

The boy barked, "Mayura, what are you doing?! Let us flee! NOW!"

Her gaze faltered for the split of a second. Then she recovered the cloak of icy iron and lowly uttered, "I am sorry, Rokuro. There is something I need to take care off first."

Shimon huffed at her sudden resolve. He would test the measures of it.

Finally she approached him with careful steps. Her feet slipped over the extravagant carpet in the middle of the floor rotating around him. Delicate movements proofed yet again her body control. He had to give it to her. While dancing he would never have guessed, she had brought her sword with her.

When she was a few feet away, she asked, "Where are the other prisoners?"

"In the basement."

Her eyes searched him, they were glued to his mouth when he talked, obviously searching for signs she had missed before.

"What are you planning to do to them?"

"They will be released at midnight," he said. His eyes dropped to her feet. They leaped up again when he added, "for the feast."

"You monster," she seethed and swung her sword into his direction.

He evaded the blow, quickly backing away. "That's what they call me."

She huffed and inquired, "Do you deny it?"

Shimon stopped, startled at the question. Nobody had ever asked, if there was any doubt he was a monster. In another life he would have claimed himself to be a monster for what he did. In a past life he would never have attempted the things he now frequently did. There had been a time he was no monster. He would have considered himself to be the victim back then. But now all of this seemed to be gone and only the memory of this past self was left.

He could not deny it, even if he wanted to. It had not been his intention to become like this at all. But upon adopting his fate, he had accepted the title.

Blinking his eyes, he saw her watching him. Curiosity made her bows bow. She waited for him to answer, fighting like a man of honor would.

He swallowed and replied, "No, I don't."

With that she dashed forward again. With one severe strike she forced him to raise his weapon for a block. The here and now was what counted.

Pushing her back with one mighty shove he made her stumble. Crossing the space between them he joined her in dealing blows.

Their fight turned grave and hard.

Easily Shimon forgot about his earlier sentiments as he savored the motions of speed and power exchanged between them.

In a blink of an eye she thrust her sword and he was quick enough to swing the poker in a powerful blow to fend off the imminent danger. Their weapons clashed with a deafening clang.

Shifting her feet she retrieved to shield herself.

The way she moved made it obvious, that she knew one hit could mean her end, while she could hit him a hundred times not wounding him unless she plunged her sword into his heart. Therefore, her defenses were more refined than her skills at attacking right now.

Above their crossed weapons his eyes met hers. They burned.

Releasing the strength to hold her sword away, he aimed to make her stumble. Yet, that seemed not to go right as well and so he was forced too evade another attack of her.

A sound of surprise was released between them and he was surprised to notice it was himself.

They continued to deal strikes.

With every dodge and every trust Shimon felt something burn in his veins. His mouth watered. Corners of his lips rose. He was excited.

She was brilliant, replying his advances with clever blocks and shifts to attack on her own. While he did have centuries to learn the swordsmanship, she had accumulated similar skills in a tiny fraction of time.

Yet, the longer their fought, the more reluctance colored her moves.

He enjoyed their battle – thoroughly – and he was disappointing to see it end, when her sword clattered over the floor, having knocked it out of her hand.

Miss Otomi – Mayura – yelped in surprise. Shocked she wiped her head into his direction presenting him furrowed eyebrows and clenched teeth, through which she squeezed heavy breaths.

He watched her but other than her erratic breaths she did not move at all.

He did not say anything either feeling enclosed from reality due to the excitement crawling through his body. His eyes moved to her neck when she gulped. Fascinated he watched her throat stretch and bend.

Releasing an agonized pant, Mayura startled him out of his stare. When his gaze shifted to her face again, he saw how she shook her head. With a croaky voice and contrite expression she asked him, "Why did you bring me here? Is it one sick game of yours? Did you want to play me?"

"No, I did not," he said for a matter of fact and his hand holding the poker dropped to his side.

"Then what do you want?" Her eyes floated over his face. Something swam in them.

He walked towards her; drawn to her like he was before. On the path and on the dance floor. His feet moved on their own. His eyes jumped to her throat again and he thought about making her his.

In this moment his thoughts started to tumble and he froze being paralyzed.

He was not supposed to change her. He was supposed to draw her blood.

Pressing his lips together, he tried to contemplate what was going on. After centuries of numbness this emotional upheaval was quite disturbing.

He did not know what he wanted. Not anymore.

He looked at her again being more mindful and sensible. She stood there, calm and severe, with her head held high but with eyes betraying her superficial composure, tearing through the image like the hole in her skirt revealing a glimpse of the trousers beneath.

What did he want indeed?

Two feet were dividing them. He took a cautious step towards her and murmured, "I am confused about that. There is something at work in my mind, which I do not understand."

Lifting a hand, he reached out for her.

All of a sudden he noticed a movement to his right. A yell thundered through the room.

Shimon swung the poker in defense and upon whipping to his right he saw the boy rushing towards him with a candlestick.

"Rokuro!" Mayura shrieked.

Both improvised weapons crashed into each other.

Shimon's eyes darted over to where Sayo had been wrestling with the boy. His sister lay on the ground, holding her head in pain. Like a bubble rage burst within Shimon and he pushed his opponent's weapon away, before hitting him into the side with the tip of the fire poker.

The boy screamed in pain.

The candlestick fell to the ground with a dull thud.

Walking towards him, Shimon intended to end this. He was held back in his tracks, though, when Mayura jumped in front of the boy.

Somewhere a bell started ringing. Automatically his eyes flitted towards the direction of the bell. It was midnight. Downstairs the feast began while he was in a state of stupor, unable to comprehend his own hesitation.

The second bell was accompanied with a loud shatter of glass. Shimon jerked his head in time to see two silhouettes barely touched by the fire's light sitting on the window's sill.

He dashed forward butwas too far away when they fell.

* * *

A/N: Dum, dum, duuuuuum!


	5. Fate's Design

**Fate's Design**

"Noooo!" Somebody screamed. It took him a while to acknowledge it was Sayo.

He leaned over the broken window's sill and looked outside. In the narrow light of the moon he saw two figures lying on the ground. Motionless from what he could see.

Squeezing his eyes to slits he sharpened his gaze.

He clenched his teeth together while he stared at the silhouettes on the ground.

After what felt like forever one of them moved. Relieved he leaned back again and released a puff.

"What are you doing?"

Shimon turned right to look at his sister standing where the chair had been. The chair she had tied the boy to was gone out of the window like the boy himself.

He also wondered what he was doing. He could have killed them both and fulfill the legend for good. Instead he had hesitated. Instead he had been overcome with fear watching her drop out of the window and relief upon watching her move.

Not only was he unable to kill her, he was concerned for her well-being, when he should actually be more interested in ending her life. Why?

Had the gods spread this threat between them from the start? Was this how he was supposed to feel for the last of Amawaka?

These emotions were odd and disturbing. For the first time, he questioned his mission to reclaim his soul, all thanks these awakened feelings.

It was almost as if he became more human the closer he was to her, as if his soul was caged inside his body, reacting to her proximity and raging against its restraining bars.

"Shimon! What are you doing? Why aren't you sending men to chase after them?" Sayo addressed him again, this time in an insistent tone.

There were quite a few things he ought to do, instead of brooding over this. He did behave oddly. But he couldn't explain the reason why, neither to Sayo nor himself.

A sigh left him and he leaned through the window, avoiding the shattered glass.

They were gone. If there was an emotional reaction, which should settle in, it would be him getting angry or frustrated. Yet, it didn't. He felt easier than before.

"Shimon?"

No matter what any of this meant, he still needed a plan. He need to shake out of this state and he needed to find her again. He would deal with however the play turned out then.

Looking at Sayo, he told her, "They belong to this village. We'll find them."

The question was how. He could let his henchmen flip every stone in the village but something told him they won't be inside the village. Earlier this day Mayura had said something about belonging to an orphanage. He just needed to find it.

Like a puzzle a plan formed within his head. "We'll ask the other prisoners. They should know where they are hiding."

"You want to interrupt the feast?" Sayo looked at him wide eyed and shocked. Gone was her playful and childish attitude. Right now she reminded him of the old Sayo; the sweet and kind girl who always had told him in a calm voice, that he needed to let her go. If it hadn't been for her and his inability to obey her request, they'd both wouldn't be here. Their corpses would have rotted away a long time ago, leaving only bones behind. None of this would have happened. Yet, of all of the things he could regret, saving her life he would never regret. Even though he'd exchanged the nice girl with the bloodthirstiest of them all.

She was right to be shocked, though. Controlling a bunch of bloodgorgers was hard enough. Ripping them from their prey was another thing. Whether he'd fathered them. However, he needed to see Mayura again.

"Yes," he nodded at Sayo and walked towards the door.

"But Shimon –"

"I know...," he interrupted her, knowing exactly what she wanted to say. Blood-thirst was the first and most mutual characteristic of gorgers. "Regardless, it will give me some leverage to lure her out again, if the prisoners are kept alive."

"Her? You think she is the one?"

"I am very certain that she is." He looked at the tip of the fire poker which was covered with the boy's blood. The scent of it lingered in the room. Sweet and almost bitter. Yet, it did not stir anything within Shimon except for thirst.

He had felt nothing when he had poured the blood of the brown haired boy. He was sure Mayura was the one of the legend. Fighting her, watching her, looking after her, he had felt like he had not in centuries.

Tossing the poker aside, he left the room to stop his people from emptying all the villagers.

Thud.

Her body hit the grass with a dull sound. She yelped as pain exploded in her leg. High pitched screams and contorted grunts swirled in her head..

Dizz **il** y Mayura pushed her body off the ground and hissed through clenched teeth as a sharp pain pierced her leg. Damn. Her ankle. She had tried to outbalance the impact with her feet but twisted her ankle instead.

Blinking her eyes open, her sight was overwhelmed with a chunk of wood. Surprised she leaned back to make out the shape of a chair leg. She barely missed crushing into the chair, she had hurled through the window earlier.

Every cloud has a silver lining, right?

Next to her she heard another groan and the shifting of clothing. She turned around to see Rokuro roll off his arm which remained in an unnatural angle on the ground. A tiny piece of white glinted in the moon light, sticking out of a skin.

The arm was broken.

With a grunt she heaved herself to her feet, ignoring the sharp needles rushing from her ankle through her body.

On wobbly feet she dragged herself to Rokuro's side and dropped to one knee. She took his good arm and slung it over her shoulder. In response he groaned but appeared to be his body upwards she uncovered a puddle of blood on the ground. It looked almost black in the shades of the night. Mayura gulped. She had no idea, if it was because of his arm or the stab wound. She only knew she needed to bring him to safety. Fast. Although lifting both their weights on her unhurt leg, made her groan in exertion.

She tumbled once when she had straightened her legs but fortunately kept her balance.

Slowly she started to walk, lugging Rokuro's body along while trying to spare her left leg.

He groaned again. This time directly into her ear. The volume of his voice stung.

Brokenly he uttered, "Mayura?"

She hummed in reaction. Slowly he released most of his weight from her shoulders, moving on his own feet.

After clearing his throat Rokuro raised his voice again, "Where are we going?"

"Home," she replied while looking straight ahead into the alley, darkened by the buildings' shadows. She hoped to get out of the village before the gorgers searched for her and Rokuro.

"What about the other villagers?"

She swallowed bitterly. "There is nothing we can do for them. We were lucky to escape in the first place."

Admitting defeat was not as hard as realizing the failure in the first place. Would she have been able to save them all, if she had not let herself be influenced by the monster? Should she have concentrated on finding the other villagers instead of rescuing Rokuro only? What a hero was she if she would sacrifice the lot for one life dear to her?

Now it was too late. She would have stood no chance against a ballroom filled with enemies, especially not with her twisted ankle.

Finally the reached the road leading east of Narukami. It appeared as if nobody followed them. The village was awfully quiet.

"Mayura, you're crying," Rokuro said all of a sudden.

Funny, she had not noticed the tears streaming down her face until now. Confused she raised a hand to her face and could a warm drop on her forefinger. It appeared, realizing the truth was not one of her strong suites today.

Luckily Rokuro did not probe further but left her alone to her thoughts, silently walking on the path bringing them to the orphanage. He must have sensed her uneasiness.

She had known something was off before. The signals had screamed at her and yet she had let herself be persuaded by interesting blue and intelligent eyes. She had talked to and even danced with the monster and all she had felt was the pull towards him. She should feel ashamed.

Yet – yet, she could not help but feel sad and disappointed. Had she been so wrong about him? Had she misread the sad eyes and the way he shielded himself with a prideful demeanor. Had everything been an act? Was the Shimon she had seen unreal?

Moreover, she was feeling this way, no matter that this monster had hunted her family for centuries, had killed each and everyone of her ancestors – her beloved father included – and stabbed her best friend right in front of her eyes.

She did not understand anything.

He had reacted like a human. Had looked irritated, had called out for his sister. The longer they had fought the uneasier she had felt, fighting him. How could it be that _the_ monster acted more like a human than the gorger-girl he called his sister? Was it all a trick?

After walking the few miles through the dark the orphanage came into sight. A fire burned inside the two story building. She was sure Jinya waited for them.

Upon entering she was surprised at the sight of the numerous faces of her siblings, though. They had all waited for them. Grins and tears of the children, various of age, welcomed her and Rokuro and Mayura was happy to see the face of the girl she'd saved earlier today among them.

After calming down some of the younger, weeping ones and receiving scolding lectures from others, Mayura and Rokuro got patched up by a sourly looking Jinya. Mayura was sure that he thought it was his fault for not preparing her sufficiently. It was her own fault. How could he have known she'd get confused about the so-called monster?

When Jinya was done treating both of them, he sent all the other siblings to their beds and went to prepare a tea for them.

The moment he left the room, Rokuro addressed her again in a low and tired voice, "Mayura, can I ask you a question?"

"Hm?"

"Why did you hesitate, when you fought him?"

She pulled her legs from beneath the table to her seat and hugged them. "I don't know."

Then they both stayed quiet again. Confused and frail emotions hung in the air.

Jinya returned, carrying a plate with three steaming cups of hot and pretty good smelling tea and joined them at the table, "Now talk."

They told him as much as they could, about Rokuro's imprisonment and how he was picked by one of the gorgers from the rest of the villagers. Mayura told them how she came to face one of the gorgers and killed him, how she learned about the ball and found Rokuro. She told them everything but left _him_ out of the story.

"I see," Jinya said. His small eyes looked weary and old, a story of loss and fear carved into the face of a middle aged man. "I suggest you two get some rest. I will keep guard for the night. If anything happens, you know what to do."

Mayura nodded, feeling tired out all of a sudden. The hot tea had soothed down some of her distress. Stumbling into bed she fell asleep soon but slept restlessly, disturbed by dreams of pointed white teeth, rooms drenched with blood and haunting blue eyes.

She felt like she hadn't slept at all when something jolted her awake. Stumbling to consciousness Mayura tore her eyes open and was blinded by sun light. Moaning she lifted an arm. From afar she heard a group of voices talking.

Suddenly dread punched into her as she remembered yesterday. What if – ?

Tumbling to her feet she quickly made it downside. To her surprise everyone was gathered in the dining room staring out of the windows of the front.

"Jinya?"

The older man stood close to the doorway to the kitchen. Worried eyes searched hers, "I think this thing came for you." He nodded to the outside.

What thing?

She rushed to the window and saw what had kept everyone staring outside the window: On the fence, not far from the building, sat a black, huge crow.

"It refused to leave and caws at everyone approaching. I think it is a message for you," Jinya explained.

Mayura nodded and walked outside, closing the door behind her to keep the others safe.

With each each step her ankle stung but the pain had dulled to a throbbing sensation.

The crow remained still as Mayura got closer. It was a big animal. Bigger than she would have assumed from seeing them flying in the sky.

Her breath hitched while getting closer, anxious about the large animal. There was a little piece of paper tied to one of its legs **, making it look like a third one. It reminded Mayura of the three-legged crow, the god of guidance**.

Well, then... She should just grab it, shouldn't she?

Reaching out for the little paper roll, Mayura carefully observed the crow's movements.

It did not move until Mayura jumped back, holding the paper in her hand. Suddenly the crow spread its wings, almost as broad as Mayura was high. With one strong push the crow lifted to the sky, whipping stains of blonde her against her forehead.

Utterly relieved she sighed and began to unroll the scroll.

It said,

 _Last Amawaka,_

 _meet me at the split willow south of Narukami at sundown. In return I will release the prisoners._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Shimon Ikaruga._

So he knew who she was and where she was. There was absolutely no point in hiding.

She knew the place he referred to. The split willow was a tree in the middle of a meadow close by a the outer rims of a forest. How did he know this spot though?

Confused she stared at the letter, eyes rushing over the words, back and forth.

This letter appeared to be a test. Only she knew his name, knew the name the monster hid behind – or was it the other way around? Was Shimon Ikaruga concealed beneath the monster?

Shaking her head, she ripped her gaze from the letter and looked towards the horizon. She had received another chance and this time she wouldn't hold back. This time she would succeed in stopping the monster for good.

The paper crumbled between her fingers.

She needed to kill him.


	6. Crossroads

**Crossroads**

The wind spurred her on, pushing her forward as she walked up the small hill, towards their meeting point. Her lantern swung back and forth in her grasp, squeaking loudly. The sun had dropped beneath the horizon, ditching the sky in a pinkish red.

She sighed. This might be last dusk she'd ever see again. Either she would die or she would free herself from the slings of destiny. From the day she was born she was like a leaf tossed by the winds of fate. Today this leaf would straighten up or fall down.

The split willow tree waved its crown in the wind as if it was greeting. It was said to have been split by a god with a bolt of thunder, enraged by a foolish man's wish for a second life to undo his sins.

All Mayura could see was a tree with two divided trunks, one having outgrown out of the other naturally. Nonetheless she could not deny how her heart sped up and how her skin started to tingle at the sight of the large tree towering over the meadow and the sound of its leaves rustling like jingles of a tambourine.

 _He_ was not there yet.

Stopping a few feet away from the object, she let her gaze run over the field, scanning her surroundings. Remote from the road she came with this area was mostly untouched. The only ones who used this part of the countrysides were shepherds letting their sheep and cows graze the grass of the heath close to the village.

From where Mayura was standing, up on the hill, she could see far into any direction. The only smart position for an ambush was the grove nearby and though she could not rule out the possibility of someone hiding in the thicket of the undergrowth, she could see everything exiting that small forest.

The sundown, the weaving leaves of the willow tree, the breeze of the wind, it felt almost – peaceful.

If it weren't for the imminent fight, she would sit down with her back leaned against the trunk and watch the last ray of sunlight disappear.

Instead she waited for the monster she had been told about since the day of her birth to appear in front of her.

And just as she thought this, she spotted a lone, cloaked figure cross the fields, coming from the north.

* * *

From beneath the hood, which shielded him from the last but deadly rays of the sun, he gazed at her, while crossing the distance between them.

Mayura Otomi truly was the one supposed to bring him fall like he'd assumed.

Right now she looked down on him, standing high on the hill next to the willow tree. She did not budge an inch. Blonde stains of hair flew around her face, having escaped their capture of the ponytail. Like the first time he'd seen her she was wearing trousers, tucked into high boots and a vest complimenting her form.

"I am glad you actually came," Shimon said while taking the last few strides uphill.

She licked her lips, showing the first sign of emotions. Her eyes skipped from his eyes to his mouth. Her sharp intake of breath pierced his ears. "Stop talking," She grabbed the hilt of the sword, sticking out from her hip. A different sword from the one she had left behind in Sayo's chamber. With a firmer voice she continued, "I won't let you deceive me another time."

He ignored the sting in his chest and murmured, "It was neither what I wanted nor what I planned when I came to Narukami."

"And what do you want beside killing innocent people?"

Again the same question. What did he want indeed?

"Freedom. It's all I want," he said the first thing on his mind and added as an afterthought, "Wanted."

Her eyes twitched, brows furrowed; her voice brightened and struggled when she asked, "Why should I believe you? You are a monster. You've murdered my ancestors, hunted down my family and killed my father."

"Your father?"

"Seigen Amawaka," she pronounced the surname bitterly.

This took him by surprise.

"Seigen was your father? But your name –"

"I am a bastard," Mayura intervened.

"Huh," he huffed. She was legitimate by blood but not by law and even though she was no true Amawaka, it was the blood of her line which ended in her. The last of her branch was an illegitimate leaf. He would have chuckled at the irony, if it wouldn't have such a bitter taste on his tongue.

Again he thought back to the incident, when he had sent his henchmen to abduct the last of Amawaka and they came back with Seigen – turned and unable to bleed. Back then Shimon had feared his course to have ended, that was until he heard rumors of one Amawaka being left. Now everything was different. Every drama ended with twists and turns.

He shook his head, flinging the memory away. "I did not kill Seigen. I wasn't there when he was attacked. It was an accident."

"Again: Why should I believe anything you say?"

Searching eyes captured his and he held her gaze, calmly declaring, "Because you and I are part of the same legend. We were ought to meet and it's our fate to fight. That's a truth you can't deny."

Eyes dropped, driving a furrow between her brows. "Don't you try to lure me in with words," Mayura replied before unsheathing her weapon and pointing it towards him. "Pick up your sword. I won't attack somebody unarmored."

"Even if it is a monster?"

They both knew, she had attacked an unarmored gorger without batting an eyelid before.

Again she bit her lip. "Stop talking and fight."

Calmly Shimon pushed back the hood of his cape before unhooking the piece of clothing to discard it fully, dropping it the ground. The sun had vanished, leaving only a slight glimmer in its wake and the twilight consumed the flame of the lantern she had placed near the willow tree.

This time he would fight without restriction. He drew his blade to wield it against hers.

Shifting into a battle stance, he watched her do the same.

Slowly they circled each other, letting their shadows, cast by the lantern, dance. Both waited for the other to leave an opening.

It was by the break of a twig beneath his boot that their routine changed and both of them advanced. He'd barely parried her attempt of a feint. His inhuman strength helping him not to give way against her blow.

Withdrawing from the block she immediately attacked anew, thrusting the blade towards his guts. Jumping to the right he evaded and swung his sword in response.

Neither one of them let the other have much space to recover or attack. While exchanging blows, it became obvious soon that they were toe on toe. In contrast to the last time Mayura fought with a calmer hand and less reluctance. With clever blocks and swift sidesteps she used his strength against himself. He wondered, if this was her element, sword against sword. Perhaps the fire poker had not been a disadvantage on his side yesterday.

She spun around. He followed and slashed his sword forward.

Instead of blocking she shifted her weight, narrowly missing his blade cutting through the air.

Shocked Shimon looked at her as she'd sunken her sword into his stomach in return.

Shocked, that she'd missed his heart.

He could not say, if it had been on purpose or not.

Unmoving he watched how she pulled out her blade, leaving no blood on him and no harm except for the torn shirt as the wound closed itself after the penetrating object was removed.

There was a pause, a moment in which they just looked at each other. A moment in which he could see regret clouding her eyes like mist covered the sea.

The moment was over fast for Mayura advanced with a loud battle cry.

Again they met in a dance of swords, besting each other with every move. He felt drawn to her, to the flush on her face, the erratic rise and fall of her chest and the sound of her heart beating fast, strongly flooding blood through her veins, as loud as their clatter of their swords clashing. Yet, it wasn't her blood he wanted.

There was set deadline for their fight, though. One thing was working in his favor: Stamina, or rather his absolute lack of it. While she sucked in and blew out whistling breaths, he had not broken out in a sweat for it was impossible to him.

She parried a blow, shifting on her legs. But instead of positioning herself, she suddenly cried out.

Going to a knee she grasped the ankle of the other leg. Her face was scrunched in pain.

Shimon stared at her. The grip on his sword loosened. His hand reached out for her.

After the blink of an eye he realized he reached out for her with his free hand.

It would be easy to kill her now but, once more, he couldn't.

As he gazed at her, the answer as to why he could not pull it through although he must captured his mind. The answer was as irritating as it was frightening. Having been focused on one purpose only had made him blind. Until now.

* * *

Burning pain seized her ankle. Clenching her teeth, she cursed her carelessness. Now, he sure was going to end her and there was little she could do to prevent it while kneeling in the grass.

"Shall we continue when you have regained your breath?"

What?

Her head whipped upwards straining her neck. Eyes widened in surprise at his offer. Was he serious? "Why?"

"You seem –," he started to explain.

"No, I mean, why are you doing this?" Her voice was broken in a screech of disbelief.

"Because as mad as it sounds, I don't want to kill you," he replied straightforwardly.

Dumbfounded she blinked at him. Mouth agape. She was at a loss for words. She had not seen this coming.

"Even if it's part of the legend," he added in a murmur.

Mayura was stupefied and shaken because of the sudden change of situation. Her mind tried to grasp on what he was saying. The legend? "I – I can't recall –"

He turned his back towards her. She began to wonder, what he was doing when he started to recite words well known to her,

" _When the past and future become one,  
when branches of fate, bow towards each other;  
Then the monster will be undone. _

_Only they who are the last Amawaka can fulfill the deed.  
Only they who are the last of their blood will complete their ancestors' lead._

 _Born in blood, it ends in blood._ "

He paused and tossed back his head. Then he continued,

" _He, who had played with a god, has his own path to follow.  
He will come to naught or spread further sorrow. _

_He, who had died once and lived twice, can free his soul,  
paying the price by pouring the blood of his fated foe._

 _In blood born, in blood it ends._ "

Mayura swallowed while slowly regaining her senses. It was the first time she heard of this second half. Lowly she mumbled, "I've never heard of that part before."

"Because it wasn't carried through time." He shrugged and continued while he returned to face her, "It is easier to see the monster just as a monster."

Right now he looked more like a broken man than a monster. The light of the lantern darkened the shadows it bestowed on him.

Mustering his face Mayura searched for a lie beneath his words. "And how would you know of it then?"

"I was the first who received these words," he replied with a cruel smirk sending chills down her back.

Irritated she shook her head. "What are you talking about?"

"I wasn't always the monster you've heard off. I wasn't always like this. Once I was a young man with a beating heart. That was centuries ago."

Licking her dry lips she nodded for him to continue. With a hiss she leaned back to ease the strain on her ankle, hoping against reason it was the right choice to give up her guard.

"My mistake was that I prayed to a god. Back then they lived among us on earth, within reach. They made impossible things happen by the snip of a finger. Yet, they were only as generous as they were cruel.

"I was a young boy living with his siblings in a shabby shed east of Narukami. My sister was born with poor health, always becoming sick. One illness pursued the next. Her body was not as strong as her mind. So my brother and me took care of her. Our parents were long dead." He looked over Mayura's head, staring off-space while telling her his story.

"Then a fever brought her down, tormenting her weak and little body. She cried all day because of the pain. Me and my brother, we both thought this was it. But I could not accept it. I had not wanted her to die. She was one of the best things in my life. And so I visited one of the gods living nearby; one who preferred to take the shape of a fox," Shimon walked over to the willow tree and planted a hand on the bark. "And I prayed to him."

Mayura's heart clenched as she'd imagined the fear of a sibling loosing their sister. She would have tried everything, too. She saw him, a brother frightened to loose his little sister. What she could not see was the monster.

"I had been mindful of my words because I knew about the wicked games gods loved to play. Yet, I had not been careful enough. After I formulated my wish he did give me a way by changing me into something which won't die nor live ever again," Shimon ended his story with a bitter tone and lowered head. "I had not known what that meant back then."

Blinking tears of compassion away, Mayura observed him. Never would she have guessed that the monster of the legend was created by a god. "How?" she asked after taking a recovering gasp, "How could a god do this?"

"They were different back then. The stronger our belief, the stronger their power. But they did dig their own grave with their little games, for soon less and less people turned to them. Now they barely have power and are happy to abide anyone believing to regain their might someday," he replied. Had his eyes been soft and flooded with emotions before, they were as cold as ice now.

"Regardless," she shook her head. "They should not have made a young man pay such a grave price, if they were that powerful."

"I had not seen the extent of the price at first and I did what I was told by the god. It was only until I noticed how I changed. I began to lust for blood and would not bleed, if stabbed. It came as a shock to learn I had stopped breathing. That was after I already turned Sayo. So I returned to the god and that's when he told me what has turned into a legend over time."

"And then you," she paused taking a deep breath before asking him, "Then you started killing my family?"

"At first we tried to avoid anything connected to it. We hunted animals for blood and hid ourselves from the villagers. But then Sayo attacked a daughter of one of the villagers. In consequence we fled. It took decades for me to accept my fate and embrace what I've become and what I needed to do to change me back."

She understood the struggle against roles cast by fate. She could relate to his fight against what he ought to do and how his acceptance turned it to a part of him. What she did not understand was why the Amawakas played a role in this story. "I still don't understand what this have to do with my bloodline. Why the Amawaka lineage?"

"Genealogy," he said matter-of-factly. "When I saved my sister's life, my line ended for gorgers can't father children. Back when I had been... turned, the Amawakas had been next of kin because my aunt was married to an Amawaka. I am supposed to burn down the branch closest to mine, eventually ending my bloodline for good."

It was unbelievable how gruesome a god could be and yet she had no reason not to believe Shimon. As unbelievable as this unheard-of occurrence was, it made sense. Even chaos followed structure, her father used to say. She bit her lip and concluded what Shimon's purpose truly meant,"And that's how you will free your soul?"

His eyes brightened and yet they wavered and ran over her face restlessly. "I need to pour the blood of the one who will destroy me, the last of the Amawaka lineage."

Her heart stopped a beat and she swallowed bitterly, fearing the answer of her next question. "Then why haven't you killed me, yet?"

He took a hurried step towards her before he stopped again. His eyes lowered flitting to the right, before they met hers again, glinting with strength, "You made me replace the one desire I had for centuries with a rather fickle but not less urgent one."

Mayura stopped breathing. Her eyes searched his. Like looking to a mirror she recognized his feelings and her own state of heart. She was unable to formulate words as her heart called out for him.

"And I am rethinking about which part of the legend I want to become true," he plunged his sword deep into the ground next to him before spreading his arms, "You are ought to stop me."

"It was never said I have to kill you." Mayura shook her head. This could not be the solution. Neither her nor his death could be.

With a little shove she pushed herself from the ground and rose to her feet, bringing her sword along. "Perhaps that was never the case," she added.

Shimon did not move. His arms remained spread in invitation, "We won't find out, if you don't try."

"I –" Her grab on the sword's handle tightened, only to make her hand and arm quiver. She stood there watching him. He appeared to be ready to receive the final stab. But she – "I can't," she croaked.

He frowned. "Then what now?"

"I don't know." Looking for an answer, her gaze roamed the ground. She licked her lips and rambled, "Maybe we never had to kill each other. Maybe you will be stopped, _when_ you pour my blood. Maybe the legend was never about two sides but one of the same. Maybe it was another play of words by the gods. What if it's not about burning down a branch of your family but reconnecting with one? _Born in blood, it ends in blood_ , right?"

When her gaze stopped on him again, she saw him walking towards her. Her skin tingled. He stopped when they stood only a feet apart. Almost as close as they had been during their dance. Her breath hitched in her chest.


	7. One Fate

A/N: Quick and painlessly or short and sweet - it's up to you!

 **One Fate**

Once again he reached out a hand for her. She laid hers in his. Without doubt, without fear. Despite knowing who he was.

Lifting her sword Mayura held it hovering over the palm enveloped in his hand. Shimon rose his eyes to hers and saw her nod.

After taking a hold of the hilt he swiped the blade over her skin and drew blood. The thick liquid slowly poured out of the small cut in her palm. A buzz ran through him which was pale compared to the desire to lick the blood. He wondered how it would taste but the thought scared him at the same time.

She asked, "And?"

"I feel no change," he replied.

"So you need to do it like –," she wavered off.

"Perhaps." He bowed his head bringing it to her wrist. He rose his eyes again to hers. Mayura stared at him, mouth opened, red cheeks as his lips connected to her skin and his teeth sank into it. Slowly, he sucked her blood, making sure not to scare her while holding her gaze. He heard her harsh breathing, felt the accelerated pumping of her heart and tasted the rush of blood. Instead of fear, the air was heavy with heat. Before he would be enticed too much, he tore away, stopping whatever occurred between them.

Then he felt it in his chest and jumped, taken aback. He felt it again as her blood flowed through him: The knock of his moving heart. And for the first time since ages he gasped and felt the air filling his lungs. He sucked in greedy breaths and pressed a hand to his chest. His lips formed into a smile as his lungs tasted the fresh air and blood warmed his limbs.

Suddenly he felt the beating grow slower. The air grew thin and more pale in taste. Then there was nothing left and he felt as empty as he had never before. His eyes skipped to Mayura who looked at him wide eyed in expectation. He uttered, "It worked but was not enough."

Without saying a word, Mayura rose her hands to the bow fastening her blouse around her neck. Her quick fingers untied the red tie. Her eyes stared unwavering back at him, before she leaned her head to the side presenting this time her neck.

It seemed like he was more reluctant to continue than she and he swore to himself not to take too much before he leaned in. This time he could not deny himself a short lick to the spot where her pulse was, moistening and softening her skin before he once again entered her skin with his sharp fangs.

* * *

The feeling as he sank his teeth into her was divine; pleasure rushed through her and she struggled to hold back a moan. She wondered, if it was like this with every time a gorger bit someone to prevent resistance. But perhaps she was meant to feel like this for him. Was it her fate to feel this deeply and self-destructively about him?

Mayura tried to suppress the fast beat of her heart, her watered mouth and the tingles running up and down her spine. And yet these emotions running through her while he took what she was giving him could not be compared to when he had smiled all of a sudden.

Here she found herself, unable to deny him even though she felt her power starting to drain. Even when she began to feel dizzy she could not pull away.

When he finally released his hold on her, she tumbled on her feet. Weak and tired but oddly contented.

The sound of a gasp, followed by a chuckle made her blink her eyes open.

There he was, smiling wholeheartedly with a gentle glimmer in his eyes as he stared at his own hands, the fire of the lantern framing him in a warm glow. She hummed, pleased at the sight. In the end they have both defeated the monster and retrieved the man behind it.

She wasn't sure what to say, which words could suffice and so she simply reached out. She wondered if his skin would feel warm now.

But before her hand got into contact, his face twisted. Gritting his teeth, he bent forward and pressed a hand to his chest.

Shocked she watched him fall. "Shimon!"

"Urgh!" He groaned and curled up his twitching body, clenching the shirt above his chest into a ball.

Mayura fell to her knees next to him but did not know what to do.

Helplessly her hands hovered above him as she watched him writhe in pain.

No!

Freeing his soul was supposed to stop the monster, not Shimon!

This was unfair! Hadn't they fulfilled the legend as best as they could?!

She pressed her hands to the ground. Grass stuck out of the gaps between her fingers.

Angry tears filled her eyes as his body jerked a few times. Her breath hitched when he stopped moving altogether. Her sight blurred as she scanned his form for any movement. Her fingers balled fists, squeezing blades of grass. Damn it all.

She had fulfilled her part of the legend. She had stopped the monster. Yet, there was nothing to cheer about. The gods had won their centuries old game.

Her head jolted upwards as an idea struck her mind. If the gods – She frowned. She had to try at least. Insecurely she started speaking, "You gods. Do you hear me?"

There was no reaction.

She tried again, "If you hear me, come out and save this man's life!"

Again nothing happened.

Disappointed she shook her head. How come the gods were never there to help?

Rising her sight to his body, she looked at Shimon's face. It was still twisted in agony. Crawling on her knees she changed her position above his head and carefully put it on her lap. His skin was warmer than it had been when they had touched for the first time but it was colder than it should be.

Out of nowhere she heard something growl. Whipping her head around, she looked into the direction. It was coming from the forest nearby. Her heart trembled. Barely she could make out the shape of the first row of trees.

Her eyes swiped from one side to another as she searched for the source of the growl. Then she saw them. Two glowing eyes stared at her from the forest. She gasped, frozen in shock.

The thing broke cover, leaving the undergrowth. Soon a shape framed the red eyes of the beast. It was a wolf.

She held her breath, anxious and paralyzed. Her sword lay too far away and having Shimon's head bedded onto her lap gave her no chance to get onto her feet fast.

A beat of sweat ran over her temple as she watched the huge beast close in, prancing on its paws until a few feet divided them.

Then it leaped towards her.

Mayura rose her arm in defense and squeezed her eyes shut.

She held her breath.

Nothing happened.

Confused she blinked her eyes open but saw nothing.

"Amawaka girl," Someone said from beside her with a sensual voice. Whipping her head around she saw a cat sitting on Shimon's chest with its tail swinging gracefully. "Do you wish to prolong this man's life despite your family's ancient strife?"

The cat's snout wasn't moving. Nevertheless Mayura could have sworn the voice came from the cat.

Unsure if she was just imagining things, Mayura swallowed and stuttered, "I-I do."

"If you choose it to be your concern, you ought to offer a bargain in return," the thing answered.

Chewing on her lips Mayura wondered, if this was another game of a god. But just as she throught this the cat's face scrunched up as if it had read her thoughts. Regulating her breathing, Mayura asked calmly, "What do you want me to do?"

"You'd need to share his fate and, once again, pick up your blade," the cat replied. It's tail whipped up and down once.

Mayura knew she had to be careful and so she inquired, "What is his fate? What do you want us to do?"

"To atone for his sin in murdering his own kin and to pay for every evil deed, he'd have to hunt his breed," the cat announced, its voice having lowered a notch.

Unbelieving Mayura shook her head at the quest. "The gorgers? You want him to kill his own sister and brother? It wasn't his choice to become like this. It was a god's doing. You just want him to clean up the dirt you gods are responsible for."

"He had challenged destiny, when he'd played with a god to extend his sister's time. Against nature's laws he had sought for fraud and committed a crime."

"This is unfair," Mayura murmured in defeat. She wondered if this was what Shimon would want. Being again a pawn of fate in a game gods designed.

The cat purred. A broad grin formed on its face. Mockingly it chimed, "Every man lives by what he chooses. Yet, nobody wants to bear the weight of what he looses."

Irritated Mayura blinked.

With a puff it vanished.

"Wait –" She raised an arm but the animal was long gone.

Beneath her Shimon groaned, "Mayura?"

She gasped and looked at him. His blinking eyes fell shut again but he lifted a hand in search for hers. With a sob she reached out for it.

She swallowed bitterly on the tears constricting her throat as she lowered her forehead to their joint hands."I am sorry, Shimon," she whispered, overwhelmed by the burden she had bestowed on both of them.

An owl howled through the night. Yet, Mayura saw nothing as she looked towards the screen of darkness luring outside the cover of the lantern's light.

Theirs was a legend fulfilled but the rest of the story was a new destiny tailored by the gods. Their fate bond together once anew.

As she waited for Shimon to regain full consciousness, Mayura stared off into the lonesome night. What lay ahead, was left in the dark.

* * *

A/N: And that's it with the first installement of this! Thank you for reading. Looking forward to some reviews!


End file.
